zombie nation
by xenocaster
Summary: london is destroyed from the inside out, and there is only one survivor. will be slash - intro done


An:well, I've done it now. The start of the story is going to be angst central... and there will be slash later in the fic. Right now, only the first chapter is certain.

The night was cliché... dark, stormy, barren of hope and saturated in fear. A boy dressed in near rags, soaked, and coughing was sitting in an alleyway. By the way he was holding a splitting maul handle like a teddy bear, and the look in his eyes, it was evident that he was afraid of something, though nobody could tell what it was. Every time something moved, he would move only his eyes, hold his breath still, and listen. He would hold his breath forever, just waiting. Hoping it wasn't what he thought it was. That night would pass in slow painful anguish for anyone alive in London.

**Meanwhile, at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry:**

One Harry potter was thrashing about in his sleep. Screaming in fear and pain, the boy who lived jolted awake. The fear in his eyes was masked only by the intense rage and hate that was practically radiating from him. Looking around the room he spotted that the rest of the room was still asleep. So he had mastered the silencing charm after all...

Running as if he were possessed, Harry potter ran from the griffindore common room to the headmaster's office in record time, still in his pajamas, and started listing off every type of candy that he could think of.

(P O V change)

'Goddamit! Dumbledore! Where the hell are you when I need to see you most! That dream... the boy... London. Oh god no...'

"Snickers damit, m & m's! FUCKING KLONDIKE BARS!" As the gargoyle jumped out of the way, a haggard and tired looking Dumbledore stood on the magically revolving staircase, slowly descending toward Harry.

Examining the boy for a moment, Dumbledore looked at Harry's anger, his hatred, and the underlying terror that came from his eyes. "What happened Harry?"

**Back in London, the next morning:**

Voices from the shadows watched as a young boy with a yellow splitting maul handle creep into the train station. Taking the boy in with hidden eyes, they observed him from the darkness of the corners. With sorrow, they noted that he looked about 15, though his eyes looked much older.

Wary steel gray eyes took in the train station, looking for signs of danger, listening for the slow but sure shuffling of feet, deep moans... nothing was there though. It seemed that this place was safe to rest in. as he started looking for food, he had no idea that he was being observed.

The constant downpour of water from the sky had matted the dark wavy hair that fell to his shoulders to his skull. His soaked blue jeans were torn at the knees, the tears going almost all the way around the circumference of the jeans so that the only thing holding the pant legs on was a few inches of cloth at the back of the knees. Smaller tears manifested all over the jeans, making the article of clothing look like it had gone through a paper shredder. His shirt was made of simple cotton, black in color, and also shredded, but not as badly as the pants. His hiking boots were in good condition, if not A little loved and worn, and very dirty. A watch on a wide leather strap was secured onto his right wrist, and a small chain necklace with a bloody wedding band on it hung from his neck.

If the situation was different, one would think that he was a street urchin except for the way he held himself. If the situation were different... one would ask why his pants had dark brown stains all over them, why he, and everything he owned, was covered in dried blood.

Slowly and carefully, the shadowed ones moved, positioning themselves in front of the young man. The one who stood in front of them was another Boy Who Lived. The one who stood in front of them was the only survivor of the London infestation.

Just as they were about to reveal themselves, deep moans and a slow shuffle of about four feet alerted them. The hid themselves in the shadows, ready to help they boy if need be. But they needed to see what he was made of... if he was salvageable.

When the boy heard the telltale sign of his foe, the first thing he did was ready himself. Dropping the snickers bar he had managed to steal from a vending machine, he picked up his weapon and readied himself. The sight that met his eyes made him want to vomit. To cry and run away, to run to his mother and say he had a bad nightmare...

"Mother? Mother, can you h-hear me?" the developing voice that came from the boys mouth was wavering and cracking, and the sound showed the fear that the boy held. As the shuffling sound came closer and the moaning louder, the smell of decay and death became stronger.

His eyes becoming blank, he rushed at the abominations. Hitting the closest one in the head with the splitting maul, he knocked it down. Repeatedly bashing in the skull of his victim, the boy moved on to another one. And another... and finally, after ten minutes there was only one left. It wasn't that it was another zombie that scared him the most... all those other people, with one painful exception had been random faces, ones he had seen on the street a time or two...

"Mother?" a deep moan was his only answer. "Mother, its me, its your son mother... its me..." backing away slowly as the walking corps shuffled closer, the boy started crying. "Mother... remember the time you tried to show me how to skateboard?" the zombie gaining ground even though the boy was more capable, the tears were running freely down his face. "Remember last Christmas... we went to that indoor Skate Park with the half pipe?" The zombie made a lunge for the boy, snapping him back to his senses.

"I love you mother..." a strike to the midsection, and the zombie was on the ground. He made quick work of it, making the job as fast as possible... when he was done... There was a smear on the tile lobby floor where his mothers head used to be, brains in several directions in a splatter pattern... the boys clothes were bloody again, his eyes empty in there pain as he knelt by the corps's left hand and removed a wedding band from the dead fingers, took off his necklace, put the wedding band on it, and fastened it around his neck again.

Sobbing the last words he collapsed to the ground, crying to the empty chamber of the train station lobby.

"Mother... father..."

After a few minutes, he fell asleep, still crying, laying on the ground besides one of his most precious people. He never saw the four robed people, and he never saw the train station pull away from reality. He never felt the tug at his navel, and he never saw the haunted emerald eyes looking at him with understanding and sorrow.


End file.
